Only A Man
by SugarLandBabyGirl
Summary: She needed help, though not entirely helpless on her own, she was a pirate after all, but still, how was she to know that something as simple as catching a lift from him would lead to so much more than either of them could ever have imagined.
1. Prologue: Shackled No More

**A/N: **Okay, so since Failzilla, just pretty much failed its last, for me anyway, all of my stuff from that crap-site will now be published and updated here and here only, for now. I usually post my stuff there first to see how readers react to them before I post it here, or not. This is one of my newer fanfics and yeah, either you like it or you don't. Sorry for being rude, but I'm just seriously pissed at the moment and not just with Failzilla.

Take care,

-SugarLandBabyGirl

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**Prologue –**

_Shackled No More_

From where she currently sat, she could hear the swoop and crash of the salty ocean waves as they beat a deep, steady rhythm against the ancient concrete water levy. Unmindfully her fingertips traced the rim of her glass causing it to sing a low mournful tune, while her left hand kept her sagging head from hitting the smooth granite tabletop. Her creamy blonde head was turned to the window she sat beside, but her gaze went further than the pedestrians on the other side of the stained glass. Her mind only heard the sea and its whispery call.

"Hey girlie, that's a dangerous look to be sporting around here you know." A tall brunette woman announced in a half serious half teasing tone as she carelessly flipped a white towel over her shoulder after drying the last glass. The blonde haired girl was snapped out of her daze and turned her attention towards the older woman behind the bar. "What look, Loria? It's a slow day and I'm on break." She answered with a curious tilt of her head, her blue-grey eyes soft and distant. Loria gave the younger girl a stern knowing look, before she hopped over the counter with one smooth motion.

"Oh, don't even pull that crap with me girl, you've been nursing that drink for two hours now and your gaze hasn't left the dock since you took a seat." Loria huffed and pulled out a chair opposite her younger friend. The blonde hummed softly in response, neither denying nor agreeing with the older woman's statement. There was no use in disagreeing, but the young blonde was too stubborn, or possibly afraid, to verbally agree. "I know that look, girlie. I know it all too well." Loria sighed heavily, almost longingly and propped her chin on her open palm, her violet gaze hooded by her long sweep-cut bangs. A lazy, wistful smile curled on her lips and Loria turned her attention away from the rolling waves that had her friend's full attention.

"Say, how long have you been here with us Devereux, three, maybe four years now?" Loria asked. The blonde's gaze flickered over to her friend and boss. "Since I was thirteen," Devereux answered easily without a pause. "Five years, then." Loria whistled, thinking how time sure did seem to pass her by much too quickly. "Seventeen years old now." Devereux confirmed Loria's statement with a nod of her head. Her voice was matter-of-fact and touched on gloomy, regretful even. They were breaching on a touchy subject that neither really wanted to discuss, but had to. It could no longer be pushed aside.

"Huh, well, I guess that means I don't have any hold over you anymore. You lucky, lucky punk," The brunette chuckled darkly. A hint of deep jealousy and ruefulness flashed in her violet gaze but vanished just as quickly as it appeared. "Well," She sighed and pushed herself up and out of the chair. "You're a grown woman now and certainly no fool, if what we taught you actually took, so do whatever you want." Loria's tone was casual, as if she really didn't care what path the blonde choose to take, but Loria would make that decision for the blonde. Because she knew Devereux would choose to stay if Loria made any small notion that she wanted the younger girl to stay.

Devereux watched her mentor with warring emotions in her heart. A part of her didn't want to leave the safe haven of the bar and the women who had become her second family, but another part of her strongly wanted to break loose from the shackles of the sandy beach that had held her down for so many years. She really shouldn't have such opposing emotions about this. It was what she had always wanted, it was the whole reason why she had searched out the older brunette and undergone her often brutal tutelage for four and a half years. Really the decision shouldn't have been so hard to make: stay and live the life of a barmaid or leave and become a pirate, like she had always wanted.

"The girls and I can handle this place by ourselves, we did it before you and we can damn sure do it without you. Now get out of here before I boot you out the front door on your skinny ass myself." Devereux's eyes light up like gasoline on a fire and a brilliant smile settled on her lips despite the crude words and cold tone her mentor had used. The seventeen year old jumped from her seat and fought the urge to hug her stern mentor, who wouldn't have appreciated the gesture. "Well, what are you doing dancing around here for? Get your shit packed and get gone already!" Loria barked as the squirming teen gnawed on her bottom lip like it was the world's tastiest candy.

Devereux startled at the sudden loudness of her mentor's voice, but that ridiculously wide smile was still on her face. It was a wonder that her face didn't hurt, Loria mused with an eye roll. "You won't regret this Loria, I promise!" The teenager raced away from the table and up the stairs, taking them two at a time in her rush. The brunette shook her head at her still somewhat childish apprentice and slumped down into the recently vacated chair. "Damn kid, giving me such problems." She grumbled with a smile, before she laughed at herself and the roaring motherly instincts she thought she had smothered out years ago.

Her expression tightened and returned to her stern mask when the overeager blonde jumped over the railing of the upstairs level, her stuffed duffel bag slung carelessly over her shoulder. "You better have made sure you got all your shit, because I won't let you come back for it." Devereux's smile dulled slightly, but she nodded in confirmation, not sure what to say to the older woman she had come to love and respect. "Well, there's the door, now get out of here." Loria lazily motioned over her shoulder with her thumb to the double-doors and blue-grey eyes followed the movement intently. Devereux straightened her bent posture and moved towards the door with excitement sparking in her wide eyes, but paused in front of them as if suddenly afraid of what awaited her on the other side.

Loria stood from her seated position, curious to see if she would actually go through with it. Some could take that final step and then some couldn't. Slowly, Devereux turned her head around to face the brunette. What Loria saw made her gasp openly in awe. The maturity that suddenly took over Devereux's whole being was shocking and instantly set the brunette at ease. "Tell the girls that I said bye, and when I come back, I'll show you that your time with me wasn't a waste." With one last smile Devereux turned and pushed open the doors to her freedom. The aged doors creaked as the teenager confidently strode out of them, her head held high and not so much as a glance backwards as she walked away.

When the doors swung closed Loria slumped back into the seat and after the shock wore off she tossed her head backwards and grinned up at the ceiling. There was nothing to worry about; Loria and the rest of girls had trained her well. If Devereux could give her that smile so easily and not even give a backwards glance then there was no telling what she would make of herself in the near future. But she would certainly leave her mark on the word for all to see and remember. Loria chuckled, picked up the half full glass the blonde had forgotten to pay for and moved behind the counter. As she dumped the contents of the glass, she smiled and spoke her thoughts aloud to herself. "I look forward to seeing your face on a wanted paper very soon, Valancy J. Devereux."


	2. Chapter 1: Redcap Island

**A/N: **Quote is mine, broken down from the original I wrote and made more personal for this story. As the quote says, years have passed since the prologue, I'm not specifying how many, but enough for her to mature into a woman and actually be considered a pirate, she also has a bounty to go with it. Redcap Island is also mine as well as all the businesses and character's on the island, except for one's you may recognize, which you won't or shouldn't, for now. Next chapter will have the Heart Pirates, ta-ta for now!

Take care,

-SugarLandBabyGirl

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**Chapter One –**

_Redcap Island_

"_As the years pass by, many things change, but I will always stay the same."_

Devereux closed her eyes and softly inhaled. The heavy, almost bitter scent of salt in the air was nearly as calming as the cool ocean waves lapping gently at her bare feet. There was a definite, biting chill in the air but Devereux had already accustomed herself to the strange weather of the island she now resided on. It wouldn't have mattered if the town of Deception had been buried under fifteen feet of snow and ice. She would have still been contentedly walking the sandy shoreline. The only difference would have been her wearing the shoes she was now carrying. Sadly enough, Devereux was once again beached. Only this time she had, somewhat willingly, let herself get that way. At the time the situation she had gotten herself into had called for a 'man overboard'.

Her stay on Redcap Island wasn't meant to be permanent and after three and a half months of being shackled to the island she was ready to go back out to sea. Redcap Island was an out-of-the-way land mass that happily harbored to pirates, no matter their reputation. There were only two towns on the whole island, but Deception, the largest and most popular of the two, was nothing short of an illustrious haven that catered to just about every need a pirate could have. The second town was named Sematary, and it had been purposely misspelled by the first islanders, a group of beached pirates. Sematary was on the south side of the island and though perhaps not as popular as its larger brother it often sported some of the best brawls between angry pirates one could ever hope to see. Sadly that was its only saving grace.

Deception however had everything from a fancy casino to a good old fashioned bar and grill. Devereux had quickly taken up as a helping hand at The Lazy Harpooner Bar and Grill once she was beached, but it was her day off. A little extra pocket change never hurt, and it was always better to pay for your own stuff that having to owe others money. She had learned that particular lesson the hard way and never wanted to repeat it. Despite its namesake, Deception was a good, fairly law-abiding town. It was a town one could easily settle down on and make a good living, but those thoughts had barely registered in her mind before they had disappeared altogether. She wasn't ready to settle and probably never would be with the way the sea had a tight hold of her.

Sometimes she often wondered, in good humor of course, if one of her distant relatives had been one of the merfolk. It would have explained her attraction to the ocean, but Devereux knew her family history and genealogy well enough to safely cross that option out. Devereux brushed her cream-blonde hair away from her eyes and watched the frothing waves a few moments longer, before she turned away from the sea and headed back into town. She had missed lunch and was fairly hungry by now. Her stomach growled in agitation as she passed The Shady Lane Bakery and caught a whiff of what smelled like apple crumble pie, but she only smiled and raised a hand in recognition when the portly Mrs. Erna Dewberry called out her name in a friendly greeting.

Devereux received several more familiar greetings by the various shop owners on her way to the bar and grill. Dr. Boots Crypt, the owner of Corpse Way Funeral Home and the Grave's End Infirmary, was arguing with a grinning Larn Moors, who owned The Rusty Cutlass, a small but profitable tattoo and piercing shop. Devereux had actually gotten two of her three tattoos and her only piercing from the flirty redhead. He was handsome and young, being only about three years her senior, but he was nothing but trouble for women. She had been sorely tempted to take a bite out of that apple, but had stopped herself short once she knew he had a serious admirer in his beautiful buxom brunette of an assistant, Avrianna. The brunette was nice enough, but Devereux doubted that she would stay that way if someone stepped into her territory.

Devereux slipped on her boots at the doorway of The Lazy Harpooner, before she strode in with a smile and situated herself at the farthest corner of the bar. "Hey Val, what can I get ya?" Hardin Pine, the owner asked with a smile as soon as the blonde sat down. "Give me the regular drink and whatever the special is for today." She answered with a lazy, but friendly grin. "Right, one virgin strawberry daiquiri coming right up," The older man nodded before wandering into the kitchen. Hooded blue-grey eyes wandered over the vast expanse of the bar taking in the sight of the normal everyday customers in their usual seats. Even the grill's self-imposed mascot, Hemingway the ring-tailed tomcat, was laid out in his usual spot by the large porthole window not two arm lengths away. Everything was as it should be, noisy yet peaceful.

"Here ya go, Val." Devereux turned back around and nodded her thanks to the older man as her drink slid down the smooth surface of the bar and into her waiting hand. She immediately picked out the whole pieces of fruit and munched on them while she waited for her food, though she knew she wouldn't have to wait long. Hardin prided himself on quick delivery and well cooked food. Not ten minutes later a steaming plate of grilled meat and stir-fried vegetables was sat before her. Devereux eyed the contents of the plate for a moment before looking up with a grin at the waiting chef and bartender. "Grilled sausage dipped in secret sauce, with a side of crispy fried potatoes, bell peppers, and onions." She recited the major ingredients of the dish with a smile, but the smile dropped after a moment and her brows furrowed.

"Hey, what's wrong with it?" Hardin asked gruffly, a slight undertone of worry coloring his voice. "You're missing a major ingredient, Hardin." She was still frowning when she glanced up and caught his gaze. "What ya mean major ingredient? Everythin' tha's suppose' ta be in there, _is in there_!" He stressed the last three words almost in a yell. The frown dropped from her face and a doe-eyed expression immediately took its place. "But you didn't give me and ketchup, Hardin." She told him oh-so innocently. Hardin's expression froze in shock, before his face slowly turned an unhealthily deep shade of red, while a teasing piranha-like grin snaked its way onto the blonde's lips. Oh, she had been so cruel to the older man. He was very, very angry and insulted despite knowing that she was only teasing him. She did feel slightly bad about it, but she knew that he'd forgive her, eventually.

"Why you-you ungrateful harridan," The old chef sputtered his words in his anger, before stomping off into the kitchen. His large footfalls nearly shook the whole building as he stomped back into the front room and slammed a bottle of ketchup down in front of the blonde. "There's yer damn ketchup," He growled at the not so innocent smile on Devereux's lips and once again marched off to take care of the rest of his customers who had been avidly watching the scene as it played out before them. Devereux bit her lip to keep her laughter stifled as she mindlessly twirled her fork around with her free hand, before he turned back to her meal. The rest of the patrons shook their head at the blonde haired girl's audacity to insult a cook straight to his face, even if it was just to tease and hid their shit-eating grins behind their mugs of ale and rum.

Devereux hung around the bar for another hour or so conversing with the locals and patching over her tense friendship with Hardin. He did forgive her, as she suspected he would, but as punishment she had to make the daily deliveries to the shipyard for the next week. Devereux took the punishment with a smile that was neither mocking nor false, only accepting. She made mistakes and she willingly paid the price for them, if she could afford to do so. Before she left though, she snitched a banana pop from the freezer and left the money for the pop and her lunch on the counter so Hardin would know not to punish her further. Daily deliveries were punishment enough for her, but knowing Hardin, he would probably make her deliver to everyone and not just the guys at the Shipyard.

It wasn't a particularly long trip to the Gunpowder Shipyard. At a fast walk one could make it there in fifteen to twenty minutes depending on the traffic, but Devereux could make it there in ten by taking a shortcut she had discovered by accident one day. The 'shortcut' was only that for someone who didn't mind jumping walls, climbing fences and avoiding old crates and tipped over trashcans, among other things. Thankfully the back-alleys were similar to the 'training field' Loria had made her run daily for a year. This obstacle course, if it could even fall into that category, was a slice of cherry cheesecake compared to Loria's monster playground from hell. Devereux cleared her last obstacle, a nine and a half foot privacy fence, and ended up in the junkyard part of the shipyard.


	3. Chapter 2: A Passing Glimpse

**A/N:** I wanted this chapter to be longer and more informative into her past exploits, but after stewing for so long and it not coming out right I decided that what's in this was good enough for now. Thank you all for reading, and I'm so sorry about the long waits between the chapters. I hope this update makes up for the wait, even just a little bit. Take care everyone,

~ SugarLandBabyGirl

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**Chapter Two –**

_A Passing Glimpse_

Devereux checked her delicate parcels to make sure the food was still hot and undisturbed, before she continued around the corner of the building and slipped into the wide open gargantuan sized doors completely unnoticed. The whole shop was unnaturally quiet, but the entirety of the building was beyond impressive. "Knock, knock. You fellas home?" Devereux called out loudly, her hands cupped around her mouth to make her voice travel farther. When nothing stirred but the salty breeze she carefully set the food bag onto the floor. She wet her lips, placed her fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle that not even the dead could ignore. "_Food delivery!_" She then yelled at the top of her lungs, knowing they couldn't continue to disregard her presence now. "Yon, Val!" A loud male voice called out in greeting as at least twenty bodies made themselves known from the dark shadows of the shop. "Hiya Benny-boy," She greeted back with a playfully smug smile as the stout older man made his way over to her.

"You're right on time girlie, we've been starvin' here." Another of the many oil, sweat and grime covered males called out with a deep laugh. "Pshaw!" She waved the comment off with her free hand, her stance wide and braced, yet completely at ease. "Like that'll happen, you fellas got more meat on your bones than a whale." Devereux grinned cheekily as she handed over the heavy bag of food and a round of raucous laughter followed her comment. "That cranky old badger finally got you workin' for him fulltime, huh." Benny stated as he pulled out his boxed meal and passed the bag off to the rest of the workers, who dove into the bag like a pack of starved wolves. Devereux hummed in confirmation, suddenly noticing the new addition to the shipyard's many looming occupants. "Ah, noticed that one did you?" Benny gave a deep belly laugh when he noticed that Devereux's attention was diverted.

She was eying the strange new ship with a thoughtful frown on her lips. It was extremely rare to see a submarine, and even rarer to see one with a mast and a Jolly Roger; a North Blue Jolly Roger at that. Abruptly Devereux spun around on her heel, her expression a mix of hopeful delight and calculating worry. "When did she come in? How long will she be here? Where's her crew now?" She questioned quickly with a determined expression. "Hold yer horses Val; I can only answer one question at a time, now settle and take a seat." The solid man ordered pushing an upturned bucket in her direction. Devereux bit her bottom lip in a clear sign of impatience, but took the offered seat regardless. Benny swallowed a big bite of his meal before answering her first question. "Now, she came in about twenty to twenty-five minutes or so ago. The crew stayed with her for a while, but then they decided to go get some grub."

Devereux nodded her head, thinking that she had probably just missed them. If she hadn't taken the shortcut then she probably would have run right into them. _'Damn, my luck is slipping.'_ Her eyes narrowed at the thought. She had a reputation for being notoriously lucky, according to the Marines. But then again, they were much easier to fool than another pirate. She however, believed that her so-called luck drifted more so to the unlucky side. "She'll be here for a week at most, probably less. It all depends on the severity of the damage really." Benny's musing voice broke Devereux out of her drifting train of thoughts. Devereux slowly smiled, the action making her look almost predatory. She stood to her feet slowly, stretching her tense muscles. "Thanks, Benny. I'll be seein' ya!" She waved to the rest of the guys before unhurriedly walking out of the building. When she was completely out of sight, Benny turned his dark gaze to the submarine and eyed the Jolly Roger for a moment before he shook his head knowingly.

"Ain't you gonna try to stop her? That ain't the kind of pirate Val needs to be hitching up with for any amount of time." The man who had previously made the starving comment spoke up, his rugged features coldly set and determined. Benny frowned and rolled his tongue against the roof of his mouth remembering the smug, challenging face of the young captain that left the sub not even thirty minutes ago, before he once again shook his head, this time almost regretfully. "No." He stated darkly, his gaze finally leaving the unusual ship to turn to the rest of his now retired crew. Every single one of his men shared the same look as his trusted first mate. "I ain't gonna do nothin' and neither are you, any of you." He told them sternly as an order they wouldn't break. "That girl knows how to take care of herself Quinn and as you very well know, she's boarded with nastier cutthroats than that boy."

Wystan Quinn snorted, his lips twisting into a vicious sneer at the mere mention of Val's previous choice of captain and crew. "Yeah, and look where that got her!" He retorted hotly throwing up his calloused hands, palms skyward. Benny heaved a great sigh but remained unruffled by the disrespect, he was used to his hotheaded first mate's ways by now. "And what's yer point?" Benny grunted, taking a large bite out of his food. "My point…" Quinn slowly trailed off in disbelief, before puffing himself up with a hissing intake of air. "My _point_, captain, is that she had to jump overboard in order to keep her head with the last captain, and this one ain't no better! If anything he's worse!" Quinn barked. "If that crazy old codger Bressal hadn't been out fishin' for Sea Kings and found her floatin' half unconscious just beyond the Brigandine Lagoon she would have surely drowned!"

Having finally heard enough, Benny turned to face his seething first mate, who had sucked in a deep breath and had his mouth half opened, ready to let out another long winded tirade. Quinn immediately snapped his mouth shut when he saw the expression on his captain's face. "I know, Quinn. I _know_." Benny answered with surprising calm. "We have no right to stop her. She's a grown woman and can make her own damned decisions, whether they be good or bad." Those hauntingly truthful words pulled the first mate up short. "Besides," Benny gave a dark, humorless grin. "There are worse pirates she could fall in with." Quinn raised a half questioning, half mocking eyebrow and asked, "Worse than the North Blue's infamous _'Surgeon of Death'_, Trafalgar Law?" Benny paused truly thinking over Quinn's words. His gaze once again fell on the Heart Pirates Jolly Roger and the odd smiley symbol that greatly resembled a virus strain. After a lengthy silence, the retired captain answered. His crew stared after him in disbelief as he ambled off back into the darkness, his final words ringing through their ears in a lingering echo. "Yes boys, there most certainly is; several of them in fact."

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Devereux made it back to The Lazy Harpooner in record time, due a sudden burst of joyful energy that she couldn't quite keep contained. Just before she reached the bar she slowed down a little and ran her hands through her hair a couple times in an attempt to tame her silken, wind-whipped mane. She pushed open the doors with eyes sparkling and a too wide devil-may-care grin plastered on her lips. Her abrupt entrance startled the rather large group of new comers, while the islanders just raised their glasses in recognition and greeting, already used to Devereux's antics. "What you got for me this time, Hardin?" She asked in a playfully cocky tone as she slid up to the bar a couple seats away from where the unamused cook was standing. She didn't want to heighten her risk of having something sharp thrown at her and having nothing to duck behind. Hardin grunted and passed four full plates down to her. His words were gruff and short. "Table eight. Seats twelve, two, seven and nine." Devereux nodded with a smile, understanding exactly which plates went to whom, despite not taking the individual orders.

"Good evening, gents." She greeted the group with a pleasant smile, expertly slipping the plates from her arm and onto the table with practiced ease. Some of the men nodded back to her in greeting while the others remained as they were, stuffing as much food as possible down their gullets. She wasn't discouraged, they were pirates after all. She knew they had to be the crew of the submarine because there were so many unfamiliar faces and she made it a priority to know everyone on the island. While they were a bit unusual in appearance, they weren't the oddest group of miscreants she had even been acquainted with. Unfortunately she couldn't pinpoint which of them could have been the captain. "Is there anything else I can get for you?" She asked with a customary million-watt waitress smile. A series of head shakes and noncommittal grunts followed and she left them with another smile. They certainly weren't a very talkative bunch, but they were not particularly unfriendly either. It was a good sign.

She sauntered up to the bar once again and plopped down onto her customary stool and silently watched the group of pirates through the reflective glass on the wall across from her, observing their actions and hoping to catch a glimpse of their captain or at least the first mate. After a short while she motioned for Hardin and ordered another banana Popsicle with a disarming smile. The cook rolled his eyes at her somewhat faux innocence, but brought her the frozen snack anyway. Devereux paid for it up front and grabbed a nearby newspaper in order to keep herself occupied for the time being. She popped the sweet, cold fruity snack into her mouth as she opened the paper and began to read the newest gossip from all over the sea. After reading a particularly interesting headline, she slipped the frozen yellow treat out of her mouth with a near silent _'pop'_. "Hey, Hardin, have you read this yet?" She asked lowly, a hint of something dark touching at her otherwise composed tone. The old cook glanced up, catching her dangerously narrowed gaze and gave only a low grunt of confirmation.

He watched on grimly as the corner of her mouth twitched from pent up anger, before her gaze dropped back to the paper. Her lips moved forming vulgar curses, but not a sound escaped her. Hardin's frown deepened making his wrinkles and old battle wounds stand out more severely. His expression was particularly scary and would have quickly reminded others that once, several years past, he was a particularly cutthroat pirate. After a few minutes Devereux gave her last sneer at the printed words and agitatedly flipped the page no longer wishing to read about the Marines latest exploits, her expression and mood suddenly brightening as if someone had flipped a switch. Hardin shook his head at her tempest like change of temperament and turned to go into the kitchen for a brief moment. Devereux was so engrossed in her reading and trying to forget the bold headline that she completely missed the brief pausing of four unusual newcomers and the submarine captain she had been looking for, just outside of the bar's doors.

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Trafalgar Law had decided to take his time while strolling through the town of Deception. The town itself was quite impressive, and not as boring as he had previously thought it would be. Bepo, Shachi and Penguin were the ones he had decided to have accompany him on his jaunt, while the rest of the crew went off to find a good place to fill their palates. Had they stopped at a different island he would have made most of the crew stay with the ship, just in case a complication popped up. However this place was unlike any other they had previously visited, or probably ever would again. One could drop a load of precious jewels, silver and gold in the middle of the street and no one would even think to take it. On this Island the locals were more likely to call after the person who had lost the treasure and return it to them than to take it as their own. It was amusing really, and yet, also quite sad. In a town full of previously cutthroat pirates, retired or not, not one of them would cheat, steal or lie to the other, at least not about anything too serious.

It appeared to be an unspoken rule among the islanders and that rule passed on to any who happened to be passing through or settle down. He knew that he and his companions had to stand out among the crowd, for several reasons, however other than a small group of children, mostly dirt covered young boys with a few missing front teeth, openly gawking at Bepo and the hefty nodachi slung casually over Law's shoulder, no one had made any motion that their sudden presence on the island was odd in the slightest. He and his three companions had quickly located their missing crewmates; it wasn't particularly difficult due to their boisterousness, although it was rather accidentally. He had only meant to peak in on them for a moment to make sure they weren't causing any trouble with the locals when something or rather someone from inside the bar drew his attention away.

What he guessed to be a young woman sat at the bar, her back exposed to the doors, and a yellow half-eaten Popsicle held loosely in one hand. From what little he could see of her features, he noticed she had an amused grin on her quirked lips as she read the paper. A booted foot restlessly tapped away to a fast rhythmic beat that only she could hear while her head lightly bobbed along with the muted tune. He guessed that she was of average height from the way she was hunched over the bar and of average weight with a healthy peachy-hued complexion and unusual cream-blonde colored hair that fell loosely down to her elbows. Since her face was half-turned away from him, he couldn't catch all of her features. However, from what he could see, he knew his first assumption to be correct, as she looked to be in her early twenties, but her eyes were still hidden from his view. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn't seem place the origin of her likeness.

The blonde haired woman absentmindedly brushed her hair back with her free hand and tilted her head sideways to get a closer look at the paper, unknowingly flashing the nape of her smooth neck to the crowd and revealing a previously, well-hidden tattoo. Before narrowed storm grey eyes could make out exactly what the tattoo was, beyond a mere flash of color, her hair fell loose from its tentative hold and re-covered her neck. Having dallied longer than was necessary and despite the nagging feeling warning him that he should know that tattoo's origin and her face Law decided to move on, his thoughts already drifting to other, more important things. Bepo having little to no interest in human females immediately followed after his Captain unquestioningly, while the two human crewmates curiously glanced back at the female who had caught their Captain's interest, if only for a moment. They stared a moment longer before turning to each other and sharing a short questioning look, before simultaneously shrugging if off and jogging hurriedly after their retreating crewmates.

Devereux felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end in warning and subtly shifted to glance over her shoulder, towards the entrance, but she only caught sight of quickly retreating shadows and not their owners. _'That's strange,_' Out of habit, she bit the inside of her cheek in question and her gaze narrowed at the doorway thoughtfully. The intensity of the stare reminded her of a hunting Marine's out for blood, but not quite. It wasn't hateful, just intensely probing, although it was still reasonably unsettling. A part of her wanted to think it was nothing, but she knew better. Her well-honed instincts and training told her to say on alert while whoever had watched her was still on the island. Unfortunately she didn't know what her watchers looked like or what gender they were. Guessing would only get her so far, so for now, she would have to be extra careful in her actions.


End file.
